“Our First Kiss Had a Radioactive Taste”: Ohashi Yasuhiko’s Gojira in Japan and Canada

Abstract

A young woman appears alone on stage. She speaks:

It was like I was all wrapped up in the faint scent of camellias. He said nothing, just looked deep into my eyes, as gentle as a spring day that goes on forever….

I’m just an ordinary girl. All I want is to sit in some trendy café over a cup of coffee, nattering on about myself and trying to impress him; or squeeze his hand, pretending to be afraid at some boring horror flick; or cuddle up on a sandy beach at night and, swept away by the sweet waves and the salty breeze, give myself up to his mad kisses. I know it’s banal, but still, I want dates like that. But I can’t. Why, you ask? Because, well, after all, he’s… Godzilla….

He was such a late bloomer and our dates were always so platonic. But then one day—we’d been talking about family, where we grew up, whatever was on our minds, and then there was a lull in the conversation—he stuck his palm out, urged me to climb up, and brought me right up to his mouth…. It was our first kiss. It had a radioactive taste.¹